Smothered
by Z10N33
Summary: The ANBU Black Ops whisper of the Wolf-masked individual who, according to the veterans, kills comrades whenever they impede the mission's progress. Kakashi is unaware of these rumors; in fact, he seems oblivious to everything except the memorial stone and slitting people's throats. The lifelong comrades of the retiring ANBU decide to change this dangerous mentality for the better.


Rated T for violence, swearing, and some alcohol consumption. Slight spoilers for Kakashi Gaiden and Kakashi ANBU arc.

**Smothered - Chapter One**

The moon's wan, yellow light lapped at the eerily hushed forest below. A dense, smothering fog was sluggishly dancing through the thick, prickly brush. The kind of chill that crawled up spines like a million icy ants had engulfed the whole of the woods. The wildlife had fled to the relative safety of their nests, sensing the blood thirst in the taut air. The enormous orange eyes of an alarmed owl stared below as several lithe shapes swept through the foliage with incredible speed and grace.

If one listened intently, one could discern through the nervous stillness of the woods the sound of paws, racing at breakneck speed after their prey. Several dogs, with intelligent, focused eyes, were sniffing and leaping and snarling after their elusive quarry. They split up, their prey having gone separate ways to attempt an escape from the oncoming attack. But the ninken were too swift, too well-trained; carefully they tracked the fleeing enemy ninja, attacked ferociously, and awaited the arrival of their leader.

And that leader arrived even more silently than his loyal hounds. The red-and-white porcelain wolf mask flew forward, and was the last thing the enemy ninja saw before the world went black. All it took was a precise swipe of a kunai, the proper lock and twist of a neck, or a cacophonous chirping jutsu through the heart to end a life.

Soon Wolf had darted to each of the ninja his hounds had so expertly hunted and ended their lives with bone-chilling efficiency and lack of humanity. He released his dogs from their summons as he stood beside a fresh, bleeding corpse whose eyes stared sightlessly at the pale moon. Wolf's nearly palpable killing intent, syrupy in the atmosphere, began to fade. Tenzo, his Cat-masked partner in the two-man ANBU squad, landed softly beside Hatake Kakashi of the Wolf guise.

No words needed to be exchanged; Cat had possession of the scroll, the primary target of their mission, safely tucked into his pack. Wolf had eliminated all of the enemies they had stolen it from. The enemy jounin and chunin ninja had been great in number, and quick, but in ability, not comparable to the pair of veteran ANBU shinobi. Soon the enemy had been fleeing for their lives instead of trying to re-confiscate their scroll, after the Wolf ANBU had thrust his right hand clean through their squad leader's heart with unflinching accuracy.

They needed to cross the border back into Konohagakure within the next forty-eight hours, which was the point at which the scroll was due back to the Hokage's office. At their pace, they could pass through Konoha's gates several hours before the deadline. Still, they did not have the time to linger and rest. Tenzo handed Kakashi a soldier pill before swallowing one himself. With practiced briskness Wolf had taken the pill, replacing his black mask and the blood-spattered porcelain mask in an instant. Then they took to the trees, resting in short intervals and never allowing their guard to go down.

* * *

Their report was made (thankfully Tenzo had handled the written portions, which Kakashi avoided like the plague) and the Hokage had dismissed them to receive treatment for their injuries. They had three days of rest before returning to the field for a month long S-ranked mission, partnered with Genma and Raidou. Kakashi thought it might be an ample opportunity to throw out (or, perhaps, consume) the perishable food in his fridge before it spoiled. This latest mission had only been a week long. Alas, his milk was guaranteed to be lumpy. At least he didn't need to concern himself with grocery shopping for another month.

He allowed his chakra to flow into the lock of his apartment door, disarming the chakra-sensitive traps within the dusty, impersonal "home". He stepped inside, keen ears perpetually alert for intruders, and slipped out of his sweaty uniform. He relished in a scalding shower, a luxury he could only partake in on rare occasions. He rubbed the grime from his hair, scrubbed the blood from under his fingernails, and tried, for a short time, to relax his restless mind. Unfortunately, such a thing as peace of mind was practically impossible for the ANBU to achieve, and he found himself without reprieve from his incessantly whirring and buzzing thoughts.

The faucet's flow of water ceased as he twisted the squeaky handle and stepped onto the cold tile of his bathroom floor. He hadn't bothered with buying any rugs for his slippery tile; the last one had accumulated enough blood and grime stains over only a few months that it wasn't worth the money or effort to replace it for the few occasions he _could _stumble into the shower. Since Kakashi was determinedly avoidant of hospitals, he would often return to his apartment, haggard and filthy, and immediately head for the shower, leaving tracks of dirt and other unsavory things in his wake. Anyways, what was the point in furnishing an apartment you only slept and ate in sparingly?

Kakashi wasn't necessarily a neat-freak (having some tracks in his house wasn't inefficient or inconvenient, especially when he rarely had visitors) but he did try to keep his apartment livable. That meant making the bed, doing the laundry on occasion, keeping the fridge mostly mold free, and sometimes mopping up dust and mud and blood that had mysteriously accumulated over the months.

But tonight he felt no need to do any of these things. As he pat himself dry and dressed in a fresh change of clothes, a sudden thought invaded Kakashi's mind. His lazy, half-lidded eye blinked and his brows furrowed briefly. Yes, tomorrow was the anniversary of the Nine Tailed Fox's attack; the date of when his sensei, and many of his comrades, had perished under the vicious blows of the Kyuubi. No wonder his mind would not ease. It was, he also noted, the birth date of his sensei's orphaned son. He paused in polishing his wolf mask, the memories of that night drawing him into an uncomfortable, guilty reverie. Sometimes it really was a bitch, having remarkable memory combined with a personality that clung to the past.

* * *

Before long the moon faded and the stars fizzled out of existence. The pastel oranges and pinks of dawn yawned across the brightening sky and the Village's inhabitants drowsily began to stir. A mouthy raven, perched just outside Kakashi's window, was throatily cawing through the brisk breeze.

While much of the village was only now waking up, Kakashi was already firmly awake and alert. He'd burst into the realm of consciousness, sweat trickling down his neck, after a meager three hours of respite. He blinked away the vibrant, bone-chilling images that had violated his mind in his sleep. He ignored the constant, dull throbbing of Obito's left eye, or the nearly imperceptible trembling of his right hand. Clenching his fist to suppress the tremors, he untangled himself from his sheets.

He already knew where he needed to be for the beginning of the day. Forsaking breakfast, he completed his morning exercises; his stomach was never quite settled on this day. Then with practiced efficiency he was shaved, dressed, and armed, and had taken to Konoha's rooftops.

When not on an ANBU mission, Wolf was allowed to become Kakashi and relinquish his mask. These next three days would certainly be maskless, which was lamentable for Kakashi, who would undoubtedly be ambushed by Gai and the other jounin and chunin of his class as soon as he was spotted in town. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop lightly, making little sound as he traveled.

A couple of villagers, those who needed to set up shop, were already up and about. He saw a stubborn ox refusing to budge, an elderly woman clasping a bulging purse, and a father and son carrying the day's wares to their market stand. Many shinobi were already prepared for the day, skirting the rooftops or heading for the village gates. Kakashi spied a telltale green jumpsuit in the distance. The shape had taken to the roofs, and was, unfortunately, heading in the silver-haired jounin's vicinity. He stealthily dropped to the streets, where, with luck, he could blend in more with the growing crowd. It was too early in the morning to receive an earful about Eternal Rivalry and Springtime and the Joys of Youth.

He walked in his typical nonchalant, oblivious demeanor, and promptly stuck his nose in his well-worn Icha Icha novel. After years of rereading it, he knew the plot, dialogue, and risqué encounters by heart; he kept it on him more for twisted shock value and, most importantly, a way to transmit the message of "closed off" to anybody who might think to disturb him. His morning routine was an important obligation; distractions weren't welcome.

Soon he found himself standing before the glistening kunai-shaped memorial stone. He gazed down at the many familiar names, allowed their deaths and sacrifices to wash over his battered soul, and remained there for well over an hour. Then he visited Rin, where he took out a rag and polished the stark surface of her headstone, then Kushina, and finally, placed himself at the memorial of his sensei, whose death date it was today.

"Minato-sensei… It's already been about ten years, hasn't it?"

* * *

The wind was picking up; a butterfly twirled in the current, and whisked past Kakashi's statuesque form at the grave. He'd stood there for at least a couple of hours, judging by the position of the sun and the pins and needles prickling his feet. He blinked slowly down at his charge, brows knitted together, and said his goodbyes until tomorrow. Other visitors were wandering into the memorial site. It was time to take his leave.

His feet brought him on a winding path throughout town; he no longer had a specific destination to wander to. The villagers and shinobi wound through the streets, chattering and bartering. A squad of genin was whining about being sent on yet another D-ranked cat-catching mission, while their jounin sensei chuckled and assured them that they were doing a great service to their village. One store owner was offering samples of takoyaki, and there was a mother stooping to pick up her toddler who had fallen in the dirt.

Mostly, the interactions of the villagers filtered through the shinobi's trained senses, but failed to register in his hazy brain. He was too bogged down in the past to see Asuma wave at him, although he could smell the cloud of smoke hanging over him, or see Kurenai's gentle, sympathetic smile, or acknowledge Gai's energetic beckoning. One image, however, stirred the man from his thoughts.

A yellow flash of spiky hair paired with too-familiar cheeky blue eyes. The boy was struggling to gain height on the Academy's shrilly squealing swing set, and other pre-genin children milled about the playground. The child was rapidly becoming frustrated, and when one student yanked on the chain of his swing, effectively sending him face-first into the dirt, he started to blather on about being Hokage and gaining respect and how that meanie better believe it.

Kakashi, having unconsciously halted beyond the chain-linked fence, felt the edges of his lips tilt up into an exasperated almost-smile. This was Minato's kid, huh? He could feel the excited, freely flowing mass of chakra that the boy contained, and the tainted energy lacing it. He could see those unruly locks and the cerulean eyes from Minato, and the face and fiery personality from Kushina. It was an unwelcome blast from the past, and he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the painfully nostalgic memories that threatened him. The children filtered back into the classroom, guided by a shouting sensei. Naruto lingered for a moment, having noticed the tall, silver haired shinobi staring openly at him. The boy stuck his tongue out at Kakashi before scampering back inside. The jounin had already taken to the rooftops at a hurried pace by the time Iruka reprimanded Naruto for being obnoxious to a well-respected shinobi for no apparent reason.

* * *

Kakashi spent the early afternoon preparing for his upcoming mission, because he had little else to do. He sharpened his kunai and shuriken to satisfactory lethality. He re-wound his wire into a compact coil. He replenished his store of blood and soldier pills, and restocked his decade old med-kit. His fingers lingered on the worn material before he packed an extra skin-tight mask (a certain necessity to any mission) and reorganized all of his scrolls. Every preparation was made, three days in advance – and soon, Kakashi found himself staring at the ceiling, stifled by the silence and emptiness of his apartment.

Soon he found himself resetting his traps and wandering outside again, under the excuse of a dire emergency that immediately required him to leave that terribly bare apartment of his: he was nearly out of toilet paper, and had no _edible_ food to eat. Therefore he was back to stalking the now-bustling streets, and, somehow, found himself sitting at Ichiraku Ramen, ordering a bowl of miso ramen. He normally sought out private booths if he ate out at all, so it was with some apprehension that he sat at the counter.

Once again his feet had lead him to a place that dug up old memories; for the years that he had been teamed up with Obito, Rin, and Minato, Ichiraku was where they commonly ate lunch. He remembered wolfing down his meal in an instant so as to avoid Obito's inquiring gaze, Rin's teasing reprimand about how eating too fast would give him a bellyache, and how he was always prepared to dodge Minato's hair-ruffling hand. Now he sat alone at the far left seat of the stand. He idly slurped down the steaming soup and made stilted conversation with the owner Teuchi. He mentally made a succinct grocery list while determinedly shoving away any thoughts of the old days.

The intense, playful energy of a powerful chakra neared him, accompanied by a lesser, more controlled chakra. They were familiar, and Kakashi blinked as Iruka and Naruto settled down a couple stools away to order ramen. It appeared the sensei had taken time out of his day to treat the boy; a pang of guilt nipped at Kakashi's consciousness. Before he would be forced to exchange greetings and soak up even more regret, he hastily finished his bowl, paid his bill, and darted to the training grounds to exhaust his body and mind for the next several hours. His highly pertinent toilet paper-related emergency was long forgotten.

* * *

The third day came, and he needed to brief his team for the upcoming mission. He was two hours late, as usual, but as his mind became focused on the task at hand, thoughts of long dead comrades and currently-living legacies of said comrades were locked away in the recesses of his mind.

He tore through the mission savagely, slicing through opponents left and right. When he was acting as nothing but a weapon, dancing the line between life and death, there was seldom room in his head for remorse.

* * *

Author's Note: The next chapter will be significantly longer and will have a good deal of dialogue and some light humor.  
If you'd like to, please review. I hope you enjoyed the first part of this. Since I didn't want to give you 5,000+ words all at once, I tried to find the most natural place to split it.  
Thank you for reading!


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